Dragon Age The Adventures Of Apostate Wick short story
by Khaarange
Summary: It's my first time I'm writing a fanfiction and I would really like if people can read this and give me constructive criticism. Give me tips and what I need to improve as a writer.


Please be gentle with me! This is the first time I'm posting a fanfiction story and I know I'm not an amazing writer. Please give me your best constructive criticism. I really want to improve my ability to craft a story. I just want to share my creativity and the love I have for the dragon age universe.

So thank you so much for giving your time to read this short story.

It was late cold and snowy night, as he dragged his tired and aching body through snows filled road until he finally came up to a small reclusive village. This winter was unforgiving this year in Felderan but it was better than a road filled with bandits or demons. It had been a year since the famed Herald of Andraste closed the breach. Thedas was still trying to recover from the aftermath. This welcome opportunity of banditry and power-hungry lords who wished to expand their territory. Greedy mercenaries who flexed their muscles around poor settlements and forcing those who can't defend themselves to pay "protection" fee.

His teeth were chattering as he approach the tavern called the Whale. "I swear by the maker, Felderans and Free marchers that owns taverns always coming up with the strangest names."He muttered to himself.

He pushed through the tavern's door and felt the immediate warmth showering his face. The door closed behind him and he began to scanning the area for any available tables for him to sit. The atmosphere of the tavern was quite lively. There were laughter, belligerent yelling, and drunks trading tales about their wives nagging them. He saw an empty table that was poorly lit. He proceeded to make his way to the table and sat down. He let himself sink into the wooden chair and spread his legs out. He felt the soreness in his calves and aching on the ball of his feet.

"Ah! What you want to drink love?" The waitress asked rudely. The man spazzed out for a second, by the abruptness of the waitress.

The waitress gave him the stink eye as she was impatiently tapping her feet. He removed his dark brown leather gloves from his hands and placed it on the table. He began rubbing his tired eyes. "Umm, I'm sorry you scared me. Mead will do fine."

"That'll be five slivers. You pay up first," she responded, even more, ill-mannered. She stuck out her right hand. "Well hurry up, I don't got all day."

"That sounds quite scandalous for a bottle of mead. Very well." He gave the waitress the money. She gave him a quick mean look before she left.

He finally felt the tiredness overcoming him. He crossed his arms and place his head on his shoulder. He let out a soft sigh and gently closed his eyes. The noises in tavern begin drowning away as he slowly let himself fall to sleep.

He woke up to screaming and gasping in the tavern. A large crowd had gathered around the entrance. He looks up from his table to see a group of armed men confronting the bartender. They were arguing over protection money. At the moment, he didn't really care. All he wanted to do was sleep. Every time, he tried to help out, he always ends up being chased out of villages and towns with pitchforks and torches. He let out a quiet yawn and attempt to resume his sleeping.

He heard swords unsheathe and heard the crowd in an uproar at the armed men now. He had become irritated from all of the commotions. "By the maker, I'll just sleep in a random horse stable tonight." He muttered to himself. He stood up from his seat and subtly shift his way through the crowd. He was right behind the bartender now. He saw the nine armed men all of them have their swords out blocking the entrance. The leader of the group was an ugly man in his eyes. He was a slab of muscle, he seems to be in his middle age, bald, and had a black handlebar mustache. The leader was pinching the right side of his mustache with his left hand. He had a devilish grin on his face.

"If everyone can pass up their payment. That would do nicely and we'll protect you from those terrible bandits uphill." said the leader, he let out a hearty laugh. He looks back at his men. "Don't worry lads, I'll pay for the drinks."

The man pushed the bartender aside from him. "Shut your damn mouth." he furiously yelled. He stuck both his hands directly at them. He felt a surge of lighting escape from his fingertips. The armed men were caught off-guard and began profusely twitching and screaming in agonizing pain as lighting flow through their bodies. In a couple of seconds, they dropped to the ground dead. "Well, my job is done." He walked to the dead bodies and begin scavenging what they had and find a hefty pouch full of gold on the leader.

He looked back at the scared crowd and he let out a disgruntled sigh. He tossed the pouch at the bartender's feet. "This compensation for me electrifying them to a death". He proceeded to leave.

He felt a bottle shattered at his backside as he attempts to exit out. He looks back to see who throw the bottle. It was the waitress. He had better look at her now. She was short and angry elderly women. "You twat! Who's going to protect us from the bandits now or whose going to be on watch for our livestock? You didn't even bother to think of the consequences. You idiot." she yelled.

He placed both his hands on his face and breathe deeply into it. She was right. He didn't think of the repercussion. "Well…" he paused for a second but was interrupted by the cranky waitress.

"Wha? Now you gonna defend us now against a group of bandits and the fury of the blackguards. Just because you're mage doesn't mean you can't take on a dozen of men. You doom the whole town, you twat!" She scorned him, she moved her way up from the crowd with the intent of slapping back of his head. The bartender stopped her before she can.

"What's your name son?" The bartender asked politely, he walked up to the man and begin wiping off some of the glasses that got caught on his fur cloak.

"Umm... I don't think names are important at the moment good ser." the man responded.

"Please Ser. I want to properly thank you. Gloria over there might not appreciate what you done but I speak for folks in this shanty village. We would of chase your kind out of this village, but right now. We need all the help we can get."

The man turned around and face the crowd. He saw looks on their face, they feared him more than they did with the men that were hustling them. "My name Wick," he said disappointedly. "I would love to help but what's the point of helping. When the very people you're helping is scared of you? I think it's counter-intuitive." After his response, a boot was thrown across the room at his face. "Who throw that?" he asked angrily. He saw people huddling together simultaneously.

"I did you, Idiot! I don't care if these people are scared of your maker's given gift! You going to help. Whether you like it or not! The next boot is going in your arsehole! If you start using them fancy college words of yours." She threatened Wick.

The bartender face palmed himself and begin shaking his head at his waitress's attitude. "I'm sorry Wick. Gloria believes using big words are the tale-sign of a demon. Thank you first all for killing those men. They threaten to burn the village if we didn't pay them in advance for next couple of months." The bartender handed Wick the pouch of golds onto his hand. "This your my friend. We can pay you more, if you can take care of our bandit problems and additionally not report you to the authority."

"You had me on not getting arrested. My friend." Wick nervously chuckled.


End file.
